By Schraepfer Harvey

It’s no understatement to characterize Marc Smason as an activist. He’s a regular feature on Seattle jazz calendars, though not necessarily in high-paying or high-profile gigs, despite the man’s vocal and brass talents. Smason’s with no less than seven groups, and keeps busy, often with up to three gigs in a single day. His creative endeavors are a grassroots mix of acoustic and vintage music styles in multiple genres. While not distinctly a jazz musician, Smason’s unflagging work in bringing music to the community, and performing from a personal and societal need, speaks across all genres and to the origins of jazz.

After catching up by phone in late July, Smason emails me: “Creative art is a political act because it’s saying, ‘There is something more important than money and material things.’” Smason effects just that notion through his actions and his busy music schedule. The trombonist, vocalist, and instructor had recently returned from the Oregon Country Fair, where he performed with Baby Gramps and a collective from the Fremont Philharmonic band. In the week that I spoke to him, he performed with Klezterbalm – a klezmer outfit – in Occidental Park; with Craig Hoyer and Jeff Davies that same day at the Capitol Music Center; and with Choroloco in the Columbia City Beatwalk and the Phinney Ridge farmers market. He holds a twice-monthly gig on Saturday afternoons at the Agua Verde Café and Paddle Club with his group el Mundo Mejor, for a small fee, tips, and food. And he’s often found in café’s or restaurants with his group Better World, and others.

This kind of hustle can be rare. If he only sought good paying gigs, he tells me, he wouldn’t play enough. Besides, music is communal, he says, and bringing it is the important part. So, he’s ready to play in any place at any time and enjoys the camaraderie of his multiple groups. “I have a stable of fine musicians that I’m happy to work with,” Smason says. “I always want to play with friends who are inspiring.”

Choroloco is a band that provides some of that inspiration for Smason. Choro is a Brazilian music style from the late 1800s and early 1900s that mixes classical sounds and improvisation. It’s all acoustic and suits Smason perfectly: “There’s something about an acoustic experience that, I think, can touch the heart of the listener,” he says. Born in 1951, Texas, Smason laments that music was live back then, unlike today. It’s a folk art he’s happy to practice with band mates and Choroloco founder and clarinetist Rosalynn de Roos. Plus, that communal and acoustic quality harkens back to Smason’s own musical origins.

Smason’s grandfather was a Vaudeville director in Chicago, and Smason remembers a strong bond with him before he passed away when Smason was still a child. Smason’s mother, Charlis, a singer and reed player, taught him to sing harmonies with his twin sister. By the time Charlis got remarried, to a blind psychologist who played cornet and piano, Smason had been well steeped in a community of music springing from the family unit.
It’s not much surprise then that in his music today, Smason seeks to meet a kind of family-at-large in music. “Every community should have a place to gather for music and community,” Smason says, reflecting on his gigs on the Beacon Rocks! Lander Festival Street series on Beacon Hill, a neighborhood-centric event aimed at creating opportunity for local musicians and performers to provide free entertainment for their neighbors. That’s a notion that really harkens back to Smason’s familial origin.

Since those origins, Smason’s continued to branch into all kinds of music, much of it on trombone, which the young Smason picked up around his family’s move to Seattle in 1961. Smason went to Roosevelt High School, then studied classical trombone at the New England Conservatory and moved on to CalArts after a year. Lacking trombone study there, Smason turned to choir, a Renaissance music group, and an Ewe drumming ensemble. He says the tough lessons in West African drumming sticks with him today: “You have to relax in music, in all music, to play,” he says. Also at CalArts, Smason was turned on to Javanese Gamelan and jazz composition, though before the school had the programs it has today, he notes. Back in Seattle, he traded yard work in exchange for lessons on the didgeridoo with, he says, his favorite trombone teacher: Stuart Dempster.

Smason then moved to the Bay Area and worked on the salsa music scene. He played in the group Actualidad, and partied. He says that by 1982, he was pretty messed up from the Oakland experiences, bottomed out in Berkeley. He returned home to Seattle and began Narcotics Anonymous meetings and sought counsel.

Smason came out of that decade positively. After tours with klezmer group the Mazeltones and a stint on a cruise ship band, Smason was expecting a first child with Mazeltones member Wendy Marcus. Smason has two daughters with Marcus and is proud of their university studies and their musical talents.

Smason continues today, in stable health, in multiple bands, and enjoys teaching music as well. Even so, he’s a bit of a known and an unknown quantity in town. You may have heard him and not know it – at a farmers market, a street fair, in a cafe. The man plays for the community, to effect a sensation, a kind of euphoria to parallel the din of life. Next time you’re out, remember to listen in and listen deeply.